


Precision

by ClothesBeam



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Dom/sub, Inappropriate use of swords, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2016-03-26
Packaged: 2018-05-29 06:06:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6362563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClothesBeam/pseuds/ClothesBeam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drift teaches Rodimus a little something about patience and precision. Rodimus never expected to learn a technique like this in sword training. </p><p>Not that he’s complaining...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Precision

Rodimus sighed impatiently. He _wanted_ to learn more about the sword. No, really, he did. He was just sick of doing the same move day in day out.

It went a little something like: bring the sword up in a two-handed grip over his helm, slash down in a perfectly straight line, and then stop swinging at the exact height and position he’d been shown a hundred times.

Ok, ok, so his swings weren’t exactly straight all the time. And he ended up jerking to a halt most of the time. But he had it good enough to move on, didn’t he? It wasn’t like this was the first time he’d picked up a weapon.

“No, no, you have to plan out the whole movement before you even begin,” Drift reprimanded. “Decide where you’re going to stop before you even start.”

“I can’t concentrate. Doing the same thing over and over is getting boring,” he said, giving the usual excuse.

“But you can feel what’s wrong, can’t you? Don’t you want to work on getting it perfect?”

Rodimus raised a brow at him. “Erm, no, try Magnus for that. Y’know, big blue guy, usually scowling or worrying about dirt?”

Drift stepped forward, looking a little exasperated. “You can’t solve all your problems with flamethrowers.” He twisted the sword out of his grip with minimal effort. Drift wrapped his fingers around the guard and rested the end of the handle against Rodimus’ bottom lip. “A little precision could go a long way for you.”

Rodimus stared down at the weight resting gently against his lip as his temperature rose sharply. He’d never thought of a sword as sexy before, but when there was a mech using it like this, how could he not?

“It could,” he conceded, voice slightly muffled.

Drift drew the sword away, clearly under the impression he’d made his point. Rodimus closed the distance between them quickly, putting a hand over the one holding the sword and his mouth over its owner’s.

When Drift pressed closer instead of pushing him away with exasperation, Rodimus’ spark pulsed a little brighter. He placed gentle kisses along Drift’s jaw and paused when he reached his audials. “Maybe you should give me a demonstration?”

Drift smiled gently, but the next thing Rodimus knew, he’d been turned around and now had his back pressed against Drift’s frame. The end of the sword’s handle pressed underneath Rodimus’ chin and nudged it upwards and to the side.

“Perhaps I should,” he murmured into his now exposed neck cabling.

Rodimus gasped for breath, fans already whirring. He moaned softly as Drift’s glossa ran over his neck, his lips nipping at energon lines. He shuddered when his teeth briefly scraped against him, only just gently enough to not cause any visible damage.

“Something like that?” Drift asked softly. A hand made its way down his side, slowly skimming over curves and biolights. Rodimus moved his hips in an attempt to rub against him, but Drift’s hand avoided his attempts and rested on his lower chassis instead.

“S-something like that, yeah,” he murmured, hoping to evoke a response.

Drift’s quiet sound of amusement only had him burning hotter. The handle of the sword was dragged down the outside of his intake channel with just enough pressure to cause a little discomfort with his swallowing reflex. It continued to trail down the exact centre of his chassis as Drift stroked his upper thigh and hip.

Rodimus rubbed his aft against Drift’s heating interfacing panel, hoping to entice him to touch him in more interesting ways. A single finger ran between Rodimus’ thigh and pelvic unit and he gave an undignified squeak as his interfacing panel shifted. He gasped when Drift’s fingers ran over his valve entrance, spreading his fluids up and over his external sensors.

He groaned when Drift’s fingers disappeared just as suddenly as they had arrived. “Come on,” he grumbled.

“A bit of patience could help too,” Drift murmured, using the rounded edge of the sword handle to circle his external sensors.

Rodimus moaned at the touch, trying to prevent his hips from pushing into the sensation. It was like some strange attempt to prove he could be patient even as he was begging for more.

“I see you’re not a completely lost cause,” Drift whispered. He pressed the end of the sword directly against his external sensors, making him cry out at the sudden shock of almost too much intense pleasure.

Rodimus whimpered as the touch disappeared again, tempted to just finish the job with his own hands. He needed something inside him. Anything.

“Get on the berth,” Drift ordered as he withdrew his touch altogether.

Rodimus took a shaky step over, glad the distance wasn’t too far, and that they’d ended up practicing in his hab suite again. As he sat, Drift rested behind him, dragging him into the position he wanted. When they were leaning back comfortably and Rodimus’ legs were spread wide, Drift brought the sword handle back up to his mouth. “Do you want me to fuck you with this?”

Rodimus wrapped his lips around it, tasting a trace of himself as he did so. After spreading some oral lube over it, Drift withdrew it again and left his mouth free. “Yes, please,” he murmured.

He cried out with the first thrust in, the sword handle feeling nothing like a spike, but still managing to hit enough sensors to be good. Drift changed the angle as best he could without scraping the blade against the berth. When Rodimus cried out, he continued aiming for the same group of sensors, hitting them without fail over and over again.

Rodimus whimpered with pleasure and all but curled around the arm responsible for it, hips moving to meet each thrust. “Drift, Drift!” Rodimus moaned his name as warmth built in the lines in his legs and lower torso. “Don’t stop, please!” he begged.

And Drift maintained the ruthless pace to perfection. Rodimus moaned when his overload crashed over him, valve clenching. He glanced down as Drift’s hands came to a halt, and he suddenly became aware of the spike pressing against his lower back. Rodimus then looked up, feeling like his face had caught fire.

Drift tutted. “You’ve overloaded already?”

“I-I’ll make it up to you.” Rodimus gasped in an attempt to get his temperature back under control.

Drift didn’t look very impressed, but he did move to accommodate Rodimus between his legs when he tried to turn over and shift down to take his spike with his mouth.

“I think I might have learnt something just now,” Rodimus teased before licking a path from base to tip of the underside of his spike. When he reached the top he focussed on the cluster of sensors near the head.

“Oh?” Drift asked, his composure crumbling now. He rested the sword on the table near the berth to make sure it would stay out of their way. “Prove it.”

Rodimus made optic contact as he lined the spike up with his mouth and sank down on it. He sucked and drew his head back up before focussing on a particular point of the head with his glossa. Drift cried out softly and dug his pedes into Rodimus’ sides. Drift was never very loud in the berth, so Rodimus felt the need to congratulate himself for that one.

He continued swapping between bobbing his head and stroking the tip with his glossa. When he could feel Drift was almost there, he took him deep before dragging his index finger over the cluster of sensors above his valve.

At Drift’s soft gasp he was swallowing down transfluid. He sat up and let the softening spike retreat back into its housing. “Was that proof enough?”

“Hmm, I’m not sure just yet. But I think we can move onto another lesson for the moment,” he replied, turning to pick up his sword again. “Seems to be a good time to practice proper post-battle blade maintenance.”

It was Rodimus’ turn to look unimpressed, but at least _Drift_ thought he was funny.

“Whatever you say.”


End file.
